


Least Resistance

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: smut_tuesdays, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-13
Updated: 2009-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no waking hour she would possibly find herself wedged between Lee and Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Least Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-4.10  
> A/N: Kara Thrace is a lucky woman in many ways. Sometimes her subconscious reminds her of this. This wasn't what I intended to write for [**smut_tuesdays**](http://community.livejournal.com/smut_tuesdays/), but enjoy. I've revived the tent from New Caprica and put it planetside post-"Revelations", but fortunately, it's all in her head.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Logically, she knows it has to be a dream.

There's no waking hour she would possibly find herself wedged between Lee and Sam, Lee's fingers slipping down her ribs and Sam's lips at the back of her neck.

"I didn't figure you two would be good at sharing," she says, feeling like she's floating. Sam's holding her up and Lee's pushing against both of them, and it's like gravity forgot what might be happening in this half-lit tent in the middle of nowhere.

"It's the end of the world all over again, Starbuck," Lee says, kissing her temple.

"You're the only thing worth living for," Sam mumbles into her ear, and the rasp of his stubble makes her shiver and lean into him. "We had to do something."

"Still, I didn't know you were into this kind of thing. Either of you."

Sam's hands span her waist and slide down; Lee traces a line between her breasts to the softness below her navel. "Time to try the path of least resistance," Lee says.

She can't argue. She wouldn't even if her mouth weren't stopped with Lee's mouth and Lee's tongue and Lee's teeth, and if her breath weren't taken away by the way Sam's palms flatten over her hipbones as he holds her to him. She can't really see either of them; they're too close, and Sam's behind her, obviously, but she can feel them, every scar she gave them, every solid muscle they've built against the possibility of disaster. All of their strength hasn't stopped the world from ending, but neither have their sins brought about the endtime. These are the men of her life and she loves them. She'll take what comfort they have to offer.

Sam's knees nudge the backs of her thighs. Somebody's - Lee's - fingers creep underneath her shirt. She'd like to pretend she's not sure who is who, a little more absolution, but she knows. She knows them. She knows the way they touch her and she knows the feel of their bodies. Sam's hands are rougher and the tips of his fingers are broader. He pushes them up her back, underneath her shirt, undressing her with the certainty of someone who's possessed her. Lee never came home to her, doesn't have the same sureness, but they're a good team, peeling her shirt over her head, freeing her breasts from her bra. Gods, she's willing. It should be all skin between them, no secrets this time.

There are four hands in her waistband, unfastening her pants and pushing them down her legs. Lee kisses the front of one thigh; Sam kisses the back of the other, and she's gone, melting into them. She has one hand on each brown head, balanced between them. Kara closes her eyes. She knows who's who, but she doesn't want to know. She doesn't need to know. Gods, these men, they never stop wanting her even when she wants to be free, but this is exactly what she needed. If Sam's a Cylon, if Lee's a Cylon, if she's a Cylon, none of it matters. Mechanics have gotten them this far. She trusts them to take her all the way.

When they slide back up, Sam's in front, cupping her breasts in his big callused hands, and Lee's behind her putting his nose against the sensitive places on her neck that she thinks only he ever found. She's shaking in their arms, her eyes still closed. They're both murmuring her name like music; it quiets all the noise in her head.

"What do you need, Kara?"

"You," she says, "you, gods."

They take that, somehow, and they're touching her everywhere, all of the right places until she's drunk on them. She can feel that she's slick, and she's gasping for breath, and her skin is hot everywhere, smooth under their hands.

"Kiss," she says, breathing fast.

"Where?" Sam asks.

"Him," she says, tipping her head back to rest next to Lee's cheek.

They hardly hesitate. Sam's mouth crashes against Lee's and it isn't pretty or tender, but somehow it heals something in her, to see them. They're still kissing when she feels Sam's hands between her thighs, spreading her open, and Lee's fingers sliding inside her. Sam's thumb rubs the knot of nerves until she's helpless, their arms the only thing holding her up, and they've stopped kissing each other and they're kissing her anywhere they can reach. The tent's on fire, she's sure of it, because there's too much heat and light and gods, she's gone, she's burned away in the blaze they kindled.

The next time she slides back into consciousness, they're all in the bed she shares with Sam, when they can look at each other, and Sam's hand is touching as much of Lee's side as it is of hers, and Lee's leg is hooked through hers so that his foot's around Sam's calf. Lee's stroking her cheek. Sam's face is buried in her hair. If this is the end she was bringing, then she'll have her special destiny: she's never felt more home.

"More," she says.

Like they rehearsed it while she was dazed with pleasure, Sam slides into her, pushing her leg forward with his. Her hand curls around Lee's cock, his fist and Sam's cupping hers. Lee throws his arm over her and across Sam's back, pulling them both closer, and together they find a rhythm. She's sobbing, somehow, not in a bad way, but the pressure of everything pushes tears into her eyes: her ugly apartment in Delphi, the ruins of Caprica, the ruins of New Caprica, the utter shambles of her marriage and her relationship, the daughter she never had, the stench of Demetrius, the bars of the brig, the wiring in Sam's brain, the unhappiness in Lee's eyes when he looks at her, the complete desolation of her promised land. There's absolution in this crowded bed, but she has to confess her sins. She's crying and they're kissing her tears away, holding her with all the strength they've got, and moving in her and against her until it's all ragged breathing and half-words and all of them are trembling, balanced on the edge of the world, toppling together into the unmapped land, across the Red Line.

"I love you," she says, because she has to, in that last moment of clarity before the words disappear and she's left choking on light and all the things she never told them.


End file.
